Ethiopia
by drizzlyNovemberInMySoul
Summary: Post Season 5: After Jane has her baby, Maura convinces her to spend some of her maternity leave in Ethiopia together. Jane has no idea what she's gotten herself into. A lot of unresolved things come crashing down on her. Of course there will be Rizzles.
1. The one where they fly

**_Somewhere over the Atlantic, 28th of August 2015_**

_So... let me try this._

_I feel stupid enough, but Maura suggested it'd be good to _write_. Seems like she expects me to freak out once I set foot on another continent. I don't know. And now I'm just bored, so ... why not.  
_

_There's a lot we leave behind and a lot ahead of us, she'd said. Coming from her it hadn't sound that cheesy._

_She's asleep now. You can tell she's used to flying. I can tell I'm not and I bet the stewardess who keeps glancing over here knows that, too. _

_Or maybe she's just checking on Alban. I didn't think people would get this nervous around a baby on a plane (didn't think I'd get so nervous). Although, Ma should have given me a clue, but... well, it's _Ma_. And he's doing fine, really. Sleeping just as sound as Maura, as if flying is old to him already. _

_For real. How do they do that?_

_I know it's nonsense, but sometimes it's like he's more like Maura... I wonder whether one can really rub off on a four month old person. He's never fuzzy like Ma says I was. He's... quiet, easy to please, and kinda serious. Sometimes that even creeps me out._

_Maura's hand rests on the rim of his infant car seat that is sitting between us. She thinks I don't notice, but she stays close to him all the time... and she shields him. Like at the gate to today, when that guy dropped his carry-on and had cursed as his toiletries and about twenty condoms rolled around the waiting area. I had to clasp a hand over my mouth so I wouldn't laugh too hard, but Maura..._

_She'd kneel down in front of Alban and would put her hands at each side of his little head, gently covering his ears. Not with pressure, just to muffle the sound a little. And the way he looks at her. I mean, his face lights up whenever he finds a person's eyes, any person, that's just the way babies communicate at that age (Maura keeps reminding me as if trying to eradicate the magic of the moment this little guy actually recognizes me)._

_But the way he looks at her – it's like he feels safe. Hell, I feel safe when I watch their little routine. It's nothing like the over protectiveness of Ma, I mean, sure, Maura is a helicopter herself, but it's so endearing... and somehow a little sad._

_Woah, I have no idea where all that came from. Must be exhaustion. _

_That weird squirrel of Ice Age 7 is bouncing over the screen two rows in front of me. _

_Trying to sleep now._

* * *

**_still up in the air, 29th of August 2015_**

_Okay. Sleep is not coming for me tonight. I get it, why should it, been only awake for 23 hours, so?_

_Ratatouille 2 is playing now. Feels like the airline is mocking me. How many kids are awake at 3:30 am anyway? Maybe we should've flown first class like Maura suggested. At least I'd have my own screen and a bigger selection of movies. Or I could play chess. But then I would have been even more nervous about Alban disturbing an ambassador or something. I don't even know why, Alban has never disturbed anyone, yet. _

_Maybe I just don't feel like visiting Africa like that. I feel awful even writing that thought down. And I guess Maura would explain to me how that's perfectly normal and at the same time unnecessary weird guilt, but she's yet asleep again! What a friend. _

_We just changed planes in Frankfurt. Alban slept through the whole thing. Is that normal? Not even the landing process made him stir! I was chewing gum and it still felt like my eardrum was gonna burst. And then that stewardess again. Told me in earnest that it might be easier for my baby if I'd be breastfeeding him while landing. Maura could barely contain herself at the incredulous stare I must've given that woman._

_No, thankfully he slept and even though I hate breastfeeding in public – I can hear Maura so clearly right now "Why? It's such a natural, beautiful thing to do!" – I really had wished then someone would breastfeed me if only the pressure would subside._

_I still can't hear properly with my left ear._

_Standing and walking for a while had felt good. I've gotten a cart and put Alban's seat on top and we rolled down the lane of duty free._

_Boarding the next plane I produced my ticket out of my handbag soaked with tea. Maura had rolled her eyes on me, though it's her fault, really. She's the one nagging me about keeping hydrated every 30 minutes that I don't take a sip of something. Which apparently isn't good if you're flying, staying awake for too long and breastfeeding at the same time. Well, like I said, I haven't been breastfeeding all night, since my baby is either very considerate or simply doing a much better job at ignoring this terrible flight._

_The gate lady however didn't seem to mind when she saw Alban. He's doing a much better job there, too. Makes people go easy on me. It's weird. I never had that ability. Not even as an infant, I bet._

_Haha, there's this maybe two-year-old boy a couple of rows behind us, who keeps saying "Amen!" to each and every announcement that comes over the speakers :)_

* * *

_Oh, I completely forgot: Ma gave me a letter I am to open at the plane. So sweet. I'm gonna attach it here:_

My dear baby,

stay safe – that above all on your incredible journey – so everything you see can reach you. You've got a precious heart, Jane, and what you think and feel and do makes you a beautiful person. I'll be waiting for you with your favorite lasagne. I'll be very happy, when you return.

Ma.

_I know our departure has been hard on her. Amazing that she didn't even mention Alban in that letter. She hated to let him go... I hated to make her. Yeah, since they first met and I told her I wanted him to have nonno's name and she had held him and kissed him, crying in pure beatitudine (I have no idea how to write that), she has been hovering. A lot. More than she already was._

_But that card of her's... this is... it's incredibly strong of her to let me do this, to give me those wishes... she's the one with the precious heart._

_I'll miss her._

_She thinks I'm insane doing this, though. I know, she does. It _is_ crazy, who am I kidding. How on earth had Maura made it seem so reasonable?_

_Sure, she's got a business visa and will help out in that hospital. She knows her way around there, she's got needed skills. For her a trip like that is meaningful. But what am I doing tagging along? With a baby!?_

_I know she knows I'm coming despite the fact that I don't know why. I don't know if that bugs her. _

_I feel like I should have taken care of my will or something before going to Africa. I know that's a bit morbid and even sounds awfully racist, but it's more like a feeling somewhere very deep... I just can't finish a sentence that pathetic. _

_It's like I know I won't come back... in some way. Maybe I mean not in the same way. No idea._

_We've just flown over Cairo. Even from my seat at the aisle I could see thousands and thousands of lights, spreading out like cobwebs. It was like looking down at the stars. Like flying headlong._

_Two more hours to go._

_Maybe it'll feel more real once my feet touch the ground._


	2. The one with the writing

**A/N: Thanks to the guest, who pointed out that spending time in Ethiopia while on maternity leave is not that normal :D That really made me laugh. I agree completely. (Even though I actually know somebody, who did that.) I really believe it's completey out of character for Jane, though. But she just had a baby, so I give her the benefit of a doubt. No, for real, the reasons why she did it will hopefully become clear as the story grows.**

**Now enjoy the next chapter and Ethiopia :)**

* * *

After circling over Addis Abeba for about 40 minutes due to bad weather the plane literally drops onto the landing platform, sending a sharp pain up Jane's spine. Alban wakes with a start and lets out a discontent wail, making Jane doubt all her intentions on bringing this little creature into this foreign world.

She wonders whether Maura has noticed the way she bites her lip or the doctor is simply back in protector mode even though she hasn't been awake for more than fiveteen minutes herself. Whatever it is, her hand settles over Jane's that is resting on her son's chest. The boy has already calmed, though he still looks upset and a little tousled, his black curly hair pointing in every possible direction.

Luckily there's a passenger tunnel connecting the plane to the gate. Outside it's raining buckets and Jane has no jacket in her handbag. Maura had insisted on visiting Ethiopia during the rainy season due to the much more bearable climate, but Jane had no idea that the trip would actually require a lifeboat.

Stepping over the small gap from the aircraft to the tunnel, the handle of Alban's seat slips into the crook of her arm and the smell of eucalyptus seeps through. It has an immediate calming effect on Jane's racing heart. So does the drum of the rain that tunes every other noise in the tunnel out.

Alban stares up at her, eyes wide and she's suddenly overwhelmed with the need to hold him to her chest. She hasn't held him in over twelve hours. She wonders if he feels the same. And if so, why isn't he asking for it? Why doesn't he cry for her? Is she really supposed to believe that his intense gaze is his way of asking her to be closer?

Jane looks ahead and finds another person staring at her, Maura, worry in her features. Right then she realizes she has stopped moving in the middle of the tunnel and tired passengers are mumbling this and that while stepping around her. The doctor is carrying both their handbags and beckons her to step through the gate.

.

"So, how do you feel about the writing?"

Jane looks up from her cereal with the freshly cut papaya in it. Maura studies her expectantly, a big cup of coffee warming her hands.

They had made it to the MSF compound and inside the guest house just before it started hailing. Mulu, a very nice lady in her mid-fifties, had already served breakfast.

Addis was noisy, smog-filled, full of people and full of glances. Rain was pouring down steadily and mud was running down the roads and pavements. If that kind of weather would hit Boston not one person would set foot on the streets.

Jane had been glad to at least have the wall of the cab between herself and the water as well as everything else that was outside. If only Maura's safety trick would work on her.

Instead Maura kept telling her horror stories. Like:

"_When I was here the last time, which was in 2007, the Ethiopians celebrated the year 2000. The coptic calender differs from ours by seven years. They had prepared extensively for their celebration of the millennium, which unfortunately fell on the date of September 11th. Therefore the world press had their eyes on them. They must have felt like eminently respectable people were coming to visit, even though they were only watching from their couches in front of a TV. So they decided to clean the city. There was not one beggar that would come up to a car at a red light."_

"_I don't see any beggars around the traffic lights now", Jane interrupted._

"_Yes, but that's due to a new law. Drivers are not supposed to give money to beggars that come up to the cars anymore. It's supposed to reduce automobile accidents. In 2007 it wasn't like that. People were loaded into trucks and deposited outside town. Then their tents and what little they had was burned and if they were able to make their way back into the city then they had nothing to return to. Most of them were women and children, who already had nobody to support them."_

"_That's terrible. Awful." Jane swallowed._

"_The press thought so, too. Not the impression Ethiopia wanted to make."_

"_So why dump it as a first impression on me?"_

"_Oh", Maura gasped. "I didn't think of it like that."_

"_It's alright, Maur. I can handle it. Besides, my first impression was already gray rain, gray buildings, muddy roads-"_

"_Jane", Maura chided and glanced toward their cab driver. Unsure of how much of their conversation he was actually picking up._

"_Oh, now that's too rude to say openly?"_

_"Rude?", Maura asked in confusion and Jane could_ _pinpoint the second her hint dawned on her friend._

_"I didn't mean to criticize the Ethiopian government." When Jane snorted in response, Maura added in a hurry sounding very nervous: "I merely tried to present the effects the outside world has had on this country back th..." She noticed Jane's smirk and lost track of her sentence._

_"At least add something positive to your first impressions", Maura pleaded._

"_I will, if you will", Jane grinned._

_And then they both said "Eucalyptus" at the same time and Maura added, "should we bump fists?"_

_._

"I noticed you were writing during the flight", Maura tries again.

"On the-? Why didn't you talk to me?" It sounds accusing, but the doctor only chuckles in response.

"I think it is great that you started right away."

"I was bored", Jane mutters, "and what's that supposed to mean anyway? Do you do it?" She gently pushes Alban's foot from the table that keeps getting stuck there every time he moves in her lap.

"I take notes", Maura nods. "So, how does it feel?"

"First of all, I have no idea how to answer that, my hand certainly doesn't hurt holding a pen, and second, taking notes sounds very office-like, not like what you suggested I should do."

"When I came to Ethiopia for the first time I also kept a diary", Maura says and feigns being offended. "My mentor encouraged me."

"So you're my mentor now?"

The doctor chooses to ignore her. "Is it hard for you to express your thoughts?"

"It's hard for me to hear you say it like that." Now Jane has to smile. She loves that Maura gets these weird moments. She loves that their friendship is like that. No acknowledgment needed.

"No, not really", she admits anyway. "It's just a little strange. As if I should be talking to or _writing_ to someone else beside me."

"That's why people like to address it with 'dear diary', perfectly normal."

"Yeah, but... no. I don't wanna talk to the book."

"So don't. You can talk to anybody you like", Maura explains and sees Jane's comment coming so she adds, "while writing."

Right then a man and a woman enter the dining room and introduce them as Mr. and Mrs. Boodenstine.

"You're up early", the gray haired woman says as they take their seats at the other end of the table. Her gaze is fixed on Alban.

"We just flew in this morning", Maura explains and smiles politely.

"Yeah, you know", Jane says and is already getting up, "I haven't slept all night. If you'll excuse me."

Maura stands too. "Let me take Alban for you. He's fed, he has slept and you need your rest."

Jane glances back toward the Boodenstines. Something about them makes her feel uneasy. Though a couple of hours of sleep in an actual bed sound amazing. She could just blame the strange feeling on exhaustion.

"Let's get you to your room", Maura offers and Jane loves her for understanding.

Though when the door falls shut Maura asks "Are you alright?" and Jane hates her for questioning her every move. Helicopter Maura when it comes to Alban is adorable, when it comes to Jane not so much. It had started long before her son was born. Maybe as soon as she had told the doctor about her pregnancy. Maura had been incredible throughout that time. Annoying, but mainly and most importantly she had been present. And that was so much more than she could say about some other people. Maura had been amazing, no doubt. She just didn't get what had made her so much more vulnerable in the doctor's eyes.

Jane fights the urge to slump down onto the bed immediately. She doesn't want to feed Maura's theories of her weakness. And yet, if anybody told her he was not feeling a little weak after being awake for 27 hours straight, she would laugh or send him over to narcotics.

As she finally sits a cockroach crawls out from under the bed and disappears into the bathroom. She wonders if Maura has seen it too and why none of them comments on it. Does the change of the continent make it really less disgusting?

Maura reaches for Alban, who squeaks out a laugh. She doesn't repeat her question and doesn't acknowledge the lack of Jane's answer. Jane hates her a little less.

The little boy in Maura's arms smiles at her. They both do. They look familiar and it strikes Jane that nothing else really does since she'd stepped out of the plane.

They look like family and it makes her feel safe and warm.

"We'll leave tomorrow at five AM", Maura states bluntly.

"Already? Wouldn't it be better to stay here for a bit?"

"It'll be much better when we get to the west. The weather will be nicer, the countryside as well. You will like it. I promise."

Jane cannot help but grunt at the thought of continuous sitting and traveling.

"Let's give your Mama the chance to catch some sleep, shall we?" Maura whispers to Alban and already turns to leave.

"How!? The prayer shouter just started shouting", Jane calls after her.

"It's called muezzin", Maura replies without looking back. "And they _sing_."

"No, they don't", Jane grins, but then the door closes and she can finally crawl under the covers. Nobody will care that she hasn't changed clothes in 27 hours either.


	3. The one with Barry

_**Nekemte, 30th of August 2015  
**_

_Frost,_

_._

_god, this isn't working for me._

_._

_._

_Barry,_

_I can hear you teasing me, cause I'm actually doing this. Well, keep 'em coming, it's not gonna get much weirder._

_We arrived in Nekemte an hour ago. There's no power or running water in our hotel. I feel like Meryl Streep when I look at the candlelight through my mosquito net. Only the sheets are clammy and the air is thick with moisture. Out of Africa didn't look that cold either. But Maura has given me a couple of gabis (traditional white cotton blankets). Nothing gets through those, it's amazing._

_Alban is fast asleep, lying next to me, wrapped in a gabi himself. He's been so good. Didn't complain for the whole ride. Although, Hannes also made sure we'd take a break at least every two hours._

_Hannes Kruus is a carpenter from Sweden, who has been living in western Ethiopia since he was seventeen. You'd never guess his age – judging by his appearance, his... awareness and fitness he might be just as old as me, but he's 57! He's an old friend of Maura's. _

_I like him. _

_He and his intern Simon from Australia arrived in Addis yesterday late afternoon to pick us up and this morning around 05:30 we started our trip westward._

_The rain had stopped sometime during the night and it was freezing cold outside. Four Ethiopians and a TV waited in front of the land rover, eager to get to the west as well. They exchanged some words in afaan oromo, which Hannes speaks fluently, and then they climbed between our luggage into the rear. I still feel bad about using up the backseat by ourselves. And Maura's comment that they wouldn't wanna have it any different, since it is allegedly perceived as disrespectful to have visitors sit in the back, didn't make it any better._

_It was amazing to see the town wake up. I had to think back to early hours in Boston. How many tipsy ladies and barfing guys I have seen whenever I got up that early to go for a run... never pretty. Here, I saw donkeys and people carrying firewood all along the road. Others, wrapped in light-colored gabis, maybe on their way to work. Slowly, we found our way around goats, sheep and dogs into the misty countryside. _

_In Addis you couldn't really see anything, literally, due to the smog and rain and mist. But once we left the caldera of the volcano and the sun came through to scare the fog off - it was like you could see e-v-e-r-y-thing! _

_I felt so good... so right. Despite the cold. There was nothing – nothing!– I had to do, but watch._

_And I'm telling you: Who needs a Grand Canyon? It was breathtaking. _

_Hannes must've seen it on my face, he'd stop the car whenever my hand twitched and let me get out to take a picture. Frankie got me this wonderful Leica as a goodbye present. He had me fight tears :) _

_She's that pretty._

_I love the clicking sound she makes and I love that after the clicking something actually moves inside. And I love that I cannot look at the picture right away. It's like wrapping a present and one day when I'll unwrap it, it will still be a surprise._

_Hang on a sec :P_

_I just had to mail this to Frankie. (They don't have post offices in the west, but you can get a WLAN connection almost everywhere – can you believe that?) And while I had my phone out I also had to send a pic of Alban to my Ma. He's so adorable when he sleeps. Well, he's adorable all the time, but a sleeping child is something... else. I remember that one time you've warned a guy in the BPD cafeteria that you would arrest him for "baby waking". I love you for that. _

_You know, the way Alban's hair looks right now he looks a little - yeah, he looks a little like you when you were a boy. _

_I can't believe it's been just over a year since we talked._

_One year has passed since you died. So much has happened, but in contrast to losing you... one year suddenly seems short. I just realized how much I expect of people, whose sorrow "already" dates back one year._

_I know, I should believe that where you are now you are able to see and know about the things we do, but... it just doesn't feel like it._

_It feels like you're missing out on... on everything, really._

_I mean, I'm in Ethiopia now. (!) Yeah, what was I thinking? _

_Honestly. I have no idea why I came here. I don't know, if Maura is enough of a reason._

_._

_I never had a chance to tell you I got pregnant. You were already on vacation and... you never came back from that._

_I gave him your name, you know. This feels strangely like a confession. I had a son and I named him Alban Barry. _

_My great-grandfather's name was Alban. He died in Italy before I was even born, but Ma loved him. I grew up with the stories of the wonderful person he must have been._

_Do you think it's weird to give a kid the names of deceased people? Maura tells me that it is quite common in Ethiopia. People even name their child something that translates "taking the place of a lost one". I don't want Alban to have that hanging over him._

_Take for example the Boodenstines (a couple Maura and I met at breakfast yesterday). Thank god, I didn't have to talk to them, but of course Maura had to make "small" talk. (Some people really don't know what small means.) They had been working for medicines sans frontieres 25 years ago and had a baby that got really sick. They left Ethiopia in a hurry to get better medical care, shortly thereafter, their child died. Now they've come back for the first time since then. To get closure, I guess. Maura says, they have to make peace with this country._

_You should've seen the way she studied me when she told me. I hate it when she feels like she has to hold something back as if I wouldn't worry as long as I don't know. I am worried, but I wouldn't have come here, if she hadn't been convincing in the first place. And I really don't think she tried to trick me into going, you know, so why not be honest?_

_Anyway, I wanted to say that it creeped me out the way Mrs. Boodenstine looked at Alban. You could feel her guilt even without knowing the story. I wouldn't want her to hold him, I didn't even want her to look at him like that._

_But now I feel bad about feeling that way. After all I'm the one, who gave my son the names of two dead people._

_I guess, at the time it didn't feel like that. I'm not sure. His birth is kind of hazy to me._

_._

_._

_There's something I've been meaning to tell you. I missed you, too, when you were in San Diego. Still do._

_Yours,_

_Jane_


	4. The one where Jane faints

The brand-new asphalt road ends 35 miles before their final destination. From then on they slide through knee deep mud or jolt over head sized gravel. Hannes instructs Jane to put an extra gabi into the infant car seat to cushion the bumps in the road for Alban. However, Hannes seems to be able to read the road. There's not one chuckhole that takes him by surprise.

The landscape grows more and more beautiful with every mile they put behind. Deep green and wide plains and canyons have already changed into narrow valleys and thick jungle.

The Toyota climbs one more mountain before they reach town and when they look down onto Challiya Hannes says: "Here we are. This is where you're gonna stay the next three months."

It's a small town not too far from the Sudanese boarder. Jane feels like she can see the whole world from up there and she suddenly has no idea what _here_ really means. Maura bounces up and down in excitement. It makes her smile and alleviates the insecurity that eats at Jane.

Half an hour later the gates to the carpenter and reforestation school of Challiya are opened by a guard. He's got a rifle hanging from his shoulder and taps his head to greet Hannes. The car wobbles down a cobblestone path and comes to a halt in the middle of three large brick buildings. Even though they're not as tall Jane is reminded strangely of Harvard University. She stumbles out of the car door, limbs stiff from sitting two days straight for over 300 miles, aware of the many eyes that follow her every move.

Some of the younger people point at her rubber boots. It's been the topic of many conversations at every stop they've made. Apparently it is fine that Hannes wears them, but on a woman it makes everyone giggle. Jane fights the urge to roll her eyes and turns around to unclasp Alban's belt and pulls him out of his seat against her chest.

He's her shield. Too many people have gathered at the compound's large yard and Maura lets herself be welcomed by each one of them, exchanging endless Oromo greeting phrases. The women press their cheek to her's, hugging her left, right, left in the traditional manner, the men do the same only by bumping shoulders.

Jane observes her friend, both in awe and terror.

She knows Maura is capable of putting courteousness and her curiosity and thirst for new things ahead of almost anything, but she has never seen her this open and at ease with strangers. They can't all be old friends of her, can they?

Jane tries her best to look clumsy with the baby in her arms so she only has to shake a few hands. She cannot keep even one of their names.

She spots Hannes unlocking a wooden door behind the parked Land Rover. He waves at her and she follows him inside gratefully. They walk silently through a small living room and out another door onto a patio. It is private and calm and exactly what she needs.

At the far end there's tea and sugar on a small table surrounded by four armchairs. Jane slumps into one and turns Alban around so he, too, can look at the banana plants that grow all along the fence behind the small garden, which encircles the patio. In one corner there's a traditional circular hut, smoke and the smell of roasted coffee beans streaming out of its door.

"Here we can stay, right buddy?" Jane mumbles.

* * *

They get up the next day at 05:30 as if for the sake of making a habit out of it. There's a service at 06:00 AM for the commencing week and Maura insisted they go together since it would be disrespectful to not show up on their first day in town.

When the doctor knocks on Jane's door for the third time to get her out of bed, the detective has convinced herself that Maura makes this kind of stuff up just to keep her from settling in or relaxing.

"Am up", she slurs and turns toward Alban, who is yawning big, but hasn't opened his eyes, yet.

"I feel ya, little guy", Jane rasps, her throat aching.

"The power is out, Jane", Maura's voice comes through the door. "I've put a banana and bread rolls on the couch table for you."

"Thank you, Maura", Jane says through gritted teeth and feels like she's eight again.

The sun won't rise before 07:00 AM, so they make their way through the dark with a flashlight, trying not to slip on greasy cobblestones. The fervent bark of a dog that comes up behind them makes Jane clutch Alban a little too hard to her chest. The baby lets out an unfamiliar appalled cry. Dogs are different in Ethiopia. They all look like dingoes and are either very shy or very aggressive.

But Maura turns around quickly and waves a fist high above her head, shouting at the dog to stay away. Jane is stunned.

They get to church fifteen minutes late, but so do many people, and try to squeeze into one of the long wooden benches. Hannes' intern Simon is already there and Jane comes to sit next to him. A strange smell invades her nostrils, one she can't place, but had noticed it during their car ride once before.

A choir accompanied by a synthesizer is blaring one song after another through the large hall that is filled mercilessly by huddled figures.

"Do they actually sing different songs or is it always the same?" Jane asks Simon over the seemingly endless repetition of the by now familiar rhythm and melody.

"They sing different songs, but it all sounds the same", he smirks.

It seems abrupt when the music finally stops and a small commotion follows. The pastor comes to stand in front of the altar and at the same time another man squeezes himself next to Maura. Jane has to shift to sit almost sideways like everyone else does, so more people can fit on the bench. Alban's hand gets caught in her hair and she hisses at the momentarily sharp pain. It earns her a gentle smile from a woman in front of her, which somehow unnerves Jane.

She turns Alban until his back rests in the crook of her arm and tries to concentrate on him. The little boy giggles when he finds his mother's eyes. It seems to have the power of untangling her nerves.

The man that joined them starts to translate the devotions that come in metallic waves from the speakers. Jane tries to concentrate on his hushed voice, but she feels her eyes get heavy, growing more and more tired with every passing second.

She realizes what is happening when it is almost too late.

"Maura, take the baby", she commands and a second later everything changes.

_Suddenly she's in the middle of the Fitzgerald Highway in Boston. Trucks and buses are speeding by, filling her ears with loud engine noise. The colors are bright and move in on her. She has to close her eyes against them._

When she opens them again, she's looking into the face of an Ethiopian. She doesn't know what the man is doing in Boston with her. When she moves her head more Africans come into view, all staring back at her blatantly. Then she spots Maura, her voice suddenly piercing Jane, but she can't make out the meaning of the words.

A wave of nausea hits her, cold sweat forms on her forehead. Maura's hand slips into Jane's, which gives her the confidence to close her eyes again. She will be taken care of.

Slowly everything comes back to her and she can place the rest of her body. They have laid her down between the benches (or had she slipped to the ground?). Her legs are bent and her head rests in two palms, the warmth radiating into her scalp. The pastor is still telling his stories.

Finally Maura's voice starts to make sense.

"You're alright.

Don't be afraid.

It is a common reaction.

You're not accustomed to the altitude of this area.

You'll feel better soon."

And she does. Simon, who is holding Alban, offers to take Jane home. Maura helps her to stand and looks at her worried and maybe a little disappointed. Right then, Jane doesn't care. All she wants is to get out of the church, away from the stares.

As soon as she steps into the still dark morning she says: "Hannes told me to come to you, if I had questions about my cell's internet connection." She doesn't want to give the young man time to address the fact that she has just fainted.

He gets it.

"Yeah, sure. Bring it to me whenever I want. There hasn't been one I wasn't able to get working. It's a little tricky here in Challiya, but possible."

He hands Alban to her and Jane accepts him gratefully. She kisses her son's forehead and suddenly feels like she needs to apologize to him for losing consciousness while he was in her arms.

Maybe she failed him. If only for a couple of minutes.

* * *

**Any feedback? ...please?**


	5. The one where loss vs gain

_**Challiya, 30th of August 2015**_

_Hey Barry,_

_the sun is out for once and warms the concrete of Hannes' patio. This is my favorite place so far._

_Tayanne, Hannes' cook, a young and pretty woman, is sorting grains of wheat in front of the circular hut that is her kitchen. She doesn't speak English, so the silence between us is not uncomfortable._

_The sun had barely risen when Simon and I came back from church, but Tayanne had already prepared breakfast for us. The bread she bakes was still warm. We had it with scrambled eggs and jelly (not at the same time, obviously). _

_The food tastes surprisingly well – though I keep saying that about everything, even tofu, since I've started breastfeeding. For lunch and dinner it's always budena with wot, which is a big sourdough flat cake and different kinds of (very hot!) sauces and vegetables. We eat with our fingers, all from the same plate and you have to (!) use the right hand, cause your left is meant for... you know, when you're on the toilet.  
_

_I can't believe Maura isn't more repelled by the fact that we're all sticking our fingers in the same food. Hannes' hands for instance always look dirty, dark grease carved into the deeper lines of his palms and all around his nails. The weird thing is, it kind of looks... uhm... nice? I mean, it's not revolting at all, it's like his life is engraved in hands and that's somewhat beautiful._

_Maura even allows me one cup of coffee a day by now. Maybe she simply can't stand my mood otherwise. When did that woman get so... involved in everything I do, huh? I know, it's a rhetorical question, but did you always see that coming? The never-ending counseling, the repetitive calling everything I do (and don't do for that matter) into question..._

_I know, it's not like I didn't ask her or didn't want her to, but... something doesn't feel right. Something feels off._

_Sorry, I somehow don't really wanna talk about her. it. whatever._

_Simon took off with my cell a couple of minutes ago, I don't seem to get a connection here. I'm so glad it was him, who took me back to the compound. He doesn't look at me funny or comments my inability to adjust. I mean, sure, I was attuned to some sort of culture clash, I just didn't expect it to happen so soon._

_They'll probably call me the "fainting rubber boots lady" for the rest of my stay. Who can blame them? I'm like the brick buildings on this compound – I don't fit here._

_Plus, there's nobody else, who's got some "adjusting" to do – so I can't really compare myself to anyone. Yeah, you know, I feel like I can't really share any of this, if everyone around me is an old African stager already. Even Simon, who's probably not even a day over 25, knows his way around better. I guess that shouldn't really surprise me. And like I said: He's a nice and decent guy._

_He actually reminded me of you this morning. I mean, he's very tall, and blond, and muscular - so not like that :) - but the way he didn't stare too long, the way he somehow knew what I needed..._

_Right there on the stairs to the church I knew what I lost in you, Barry,_

_and I also kind of understood that I might be able to find it again and again,_

_cause what you left me helps me see and hear and feel things you made me see and hear and feel._

_Does that makes sense to you?_

_._

_I held your eulogy. I was glad I could do that for you, for your family,_

_for me._

_I miss you with all my heart and I cannot compensate that we're never gonna talk again. Nothing ever felt like that. I never lost someone like that._

_I've seen death. A lot. I'm not a person that goes through life without grazing the topic, but with you..._

_Ma once told me deep hurt is a sign of stark contiguousness and a strong bond. While that makes sense to me it also makes me wish we hadn't been that close. It somehow even makes me wish not to be close to anyone... anymore._

_And yet I hope you somehow stay close, even now._

_I hope, you can be part of anything you don't want to miss._

_And I even wish I could share you, could make other people feel your friendship, your love, so what I lost becomes evident and they will know how it feels to lose it, too._

_._

_But what we had is exclusively for you and me._

_How is that possible?_


	6. The one with the fight

**Sorry, it has to get worse before it can get better...**

* * *

When Jane comes back to the guesthouse she shares with Maura, the other woman is already there. She gets up from where she was reading on the couch and looks at Jane, who stands rooted to the spot in the doorway, expectantly.

"How are you feeling?" Maura asks softly.

"My throat's a little sore, but I'm okay", Jane tries to answer truthfully and moves to lower her sleeping son into one of the armchairs in the living room. "I haven't had time to eat this morning, only fed Alban. And then that smell at church, I guess, I wasn't breathing properly."

"It's the butter they put in their hair to make it look more straight and shiny", Maura explains and Jane cannot help to grimace.

"You really should take better care of yourself", Maura huffs, at first encouraged by Jane's seemingly light mood, but then she looks like she regrets the statement. Jane stares at her for a long time, before she suddenly picks the baby up again and disappears into her room.

A second later she comes back without him and notices the surprised look on her friend's face. Her voice is sharp when she speaks.

"I guess, you're the know-it-all here, Maura, but I don't need you to patronize me."

"Excuse me?", Maura gasps, genuinely offended.

It only makes Jane carry on with her next point: "I feel like I don't really know you anymore. It's like with Ian all over again, like something you've never shared. Nonstop hugging, attending services, fighting dogs- what is that!?"

The breath Maura takes is long and shaky. Jane cannot tell whether the doctor is angry or afraid or something else. She cannot stand the silence that tries to stretch between them, so she starts pacing. Her eyes fall on the book Maura has been reading and it hits her like ice, when she realizes it's a parent's guide. Something inside of her snaps.

"So you're not only an expert on Ethiopia, but you're preparing to tell me where I mess up with my kid as well!?"

Maura looks so sad, it makes her insides churn, but she won't allow it to bring her down.

Not now.

"You're not gonna finish this fight, Maura?" She knows she sounds like she's glad that she has the power to render Maura speechless.

"Did it catch you off guard?" At this point Jane's words are meant to hurt. The knowledge of that mortifies her.

"No, it didn't", Maura breathes, taking in Jane's slumped shoulders. "I was expecting it. Just not so soon."

"What!?" Jane straightens, the fury is back. "How- Why?"

"I knew you were bottling up too much frustration and-"

"No, Maura! _Why_ don't you tell me? When did you stop blurting out your thoughts, huh? If you have something to say to me, say it for god's sake! Don't treat me like a bomb that goes off eventually. Stop walking on eggshells around me like I'm gonna jump you!"

Maura narrows her eyes, her gaze hardening as if she wants to tell Jane that the detective has just made a self fulfilling prophecy out of her own statement.

"Well", Maura starts, her voice firm and a little huffy, "you've also changed. I believe, I don't feel like I can share all of my concerns with you anymore, because I am not sure that you are capable of handling those."

"What?", Jane spits. It's like an echo of the words that reverberate loudly through her brain. She can tell that Maura is willing herself not to be intimidated.

"I can see you struggling with the things we see and do here", the doctor tries to explain, "but I don't see you cope. No sarcastic comment, no expression of anger..." Her sentence lingers in the air, for a brief moment unfinished.

"For a while now I feel like all you do is push people away", Maura adds and blushes.

Jane cannot hide the hurt the confession brings down on her. She sways between defeat and defiance. After a while she settles for the latter and asks incredulously: "You equate following you to Ethiopia with pushing you away?"

However, she doesn't want to hear an answer. For a split second she wishes she could storm off, just leave the house for as long as she wants, but then she remembers that her son is sleeping in the other room and now is not the time to ask Maura to look after him.

So she just shrugs her shoulders and shakes her head, before she leaves Maura to herself in the living room.

* * *

Simon comes back just before lunch, having fixed the connection on Jane's cell. Not even ten minutes after Jane has texted Angela the number, the land-line in the carpenter school's office, from which one can only take calls, not make them, rings.

A man comes to Maura's and Jane's guest house, informing the detective that "Unjella Reecouly" is calling for her. Jane automatically hands Alban over to Maura and when the other woman takes the baby as a matter of course, she feels like it's a load off her mind. She couldn't bear the thought of Maura being halting toward Alban because of their earlier fight.

She follows the office worker down to the main building of the school and moments later is met with her Ma's voice, two octaves higher due to the overwhelming excitement the woman must feel.

"_I'm talking to Africa!"_, Angela shouts into the phone and Jane has to roll her eyes despite the grin her mother's enthusiasm brings to her lips.

Jane tells her how she already misses warm showers, skips over the part where she fainted in church and, while Angela is waiting patiently, she also counts the insect bites on her left leg just to give her mother something inane to worry about.

They sigh in unison, because they both know it's not the whole truth, and then Angela says:

"_Put Alban on the phone."_

"Ma, he's still not speaking", Jane chuckles.

"_Don't be silly, I know that. I wanna sing to him so he doesn't forget my voice." _

Jane needs a second to collect herself before she can answer: "That's really sweet, Ma." Somehow she caves then, even though she's in an office packed with people, day laborers entering steadily to collect their paychecks.

"I had a fight with Maura", she admits and turns her chair to the wall to give herself the illusion of privacy. Apparently Angela is waiting to hear more, so Jane adds: "She says I've been pushing people away."

* * *

Jane enters Hannes' living room and finds Maura sitting on the couch, her feet are supported by a small stool and Alban is resting against her thighs, facing Maura. Simon is setting the table around Hannes, who's tinkering with a radio that looks like it might be from ancient times.

"I think it's nice that she calls you", Maura says unbidden, probably reading some bemused expression off of Jane's face and at the same time trying to keep any tension between them at bay.

"She's calling for Alban", Jane answers, trying to sidestep the conversation.

"That's not true and you know it."

"Well, she must be worried, it's been a week", Jane gives in. The way Maura's head shoots up makes her think she's said the wrong thing.

"It hasn't been a week, Jane", Maura states, concern written all over her face. "It's only been three days."

"Three days!?", Jane asks incredulously and earns a chuckle from Simon.

"If you wanna live long, you gotta come here", Hannes confirms without lifting his eyes from his task. At that Jane lets herself fall onto the couch, feeling defeated.

"When did you come to Ethiopia for the first time?", she asks her friend after a while, suddenly painfully aware of how little she knows of something that must have had such an impact on Maura. And, after the talk with her mother, even more aware of how it is her place to ask Maura about the things she wants to learn about her.

"I was 22", Maura begins. "I had already finished my basic medical education and wanted to explore my options, you know, see if I could handle..." She gazes around the table, a little flustered.

"People?", Jane fills in. Her heart warms when Maura nods and smiles slightly, still a little embarrassed.

"It felt like an appropriate challenge", Maura continues. "I thought, I'd only need enough distance from my own life to see if things would still trouble me as much when I was around patients. My parents were very fond of the idea, they thought it would add perfectly to my skills-"

"Of course they did", Jane adds, but the doctor tries not to let herself be irritated.

"- and with my father's connections I got the chance to do an internship at the MSF hospital in Challiya." The doctor spreads out her hands at the living room as if to prove her point.

Jane has an idea about what Maura meant by _things_ that troubled her and yet a craving is awakened. She longs to know more, needs to probe deeper.

She finds herself too afraid of the unknown.

"And that's when you guys met?" she asks instead. The gentle gazes Hannes gives her friend didn't go unnoticed and she wonders briefly what kind of bond those two actually share.

"Not right away, but yes", Maura answers jauntily. "My mentor Christina, a midwife at the hospital, unexpectedly left two days after I got here. She had to go back to the States for her father's funeral."

"That must have been hard for you", Jane contemplates.

"A little, yes. Without her it was like being thrown in at the deep end." And then Maura smiles at the older man sitting next to her. "Fortunately Hannes took me under his wing."

"Ah", Hannes laughs and sounds slightly reprehensive at the same time. "You weren't in need of that, Maura", he says.

"So, how long did it take your parents to call you?"

The way Maura looks at her tells Jane she's hit the nail on the head. She doesn't really feel sorry for asking, but for the way it had sounded. Like something very obvious to ask.

They are interrupted by Tayanne, who brings in a bowl that contains the wot and starts distributing the red sauce and beans in small puddles all around the large gray flat cake that lies on an equally big and round plate in the middle of the dinner table.


	7. The one with Jane's questions

_**Challiya, 1st of September**_

_Hey Barry,_

_So, one and a half days have passed since my last entry and if I'd compare what I did to my BPD schedule it would seem ridiculous, but it feels as if I've been pulling a double shift – each day!_

_In addition to that I'm going to bed around EIGHT PM, when the sun and the electricity are gone (they turn off the generator at night). Except for the couple of times Alban wakes me during the night to be fed, I'm sleeping ten to eleven hours right now. Maura says, it's very healthy, well, of course she would think so. She says, we'd all get more of the rest we're in need for, if it wouldn't be for the sleep procrastination a modern society brings. _

_I seem to be incapable of not listening to her rambling._

_I just came back from the market – Wednesday is market day._

_You should've seen how big Alban's eyes got! I had him in TJs old baby carrier around my front and he seemed really impressed by all the vivid colors. One of the carpenters accompanied us, which is good, cause otherwise we'd get overrun by children, I guess. His name's Bacha, he's just finished the carpenter's school program last year and he is the skinniest person I've ever seen and has the widest smile._

_There are many small kids, the ones that aren't in school yet, on the street and roaming the market while their parents sell vegetables, fruits, spices, pottery and soft goods. Whenever they can, they'll slip their tiny, sweaty and sugar-cane-sticky hands into yours and look up to you with the cheekiest grin. It's adorable, even though they're mainly looking for money._

_They call us "farenji". (Not fainting rubber boots!) Bacha says, it means white, beautiful and foreigner. They've never met a white person, who wasn't rich in comparison to them._

_I really enjoyed Bacha's company. We joked a lot (his name actually translates "joker") – up to now I found it difficult to get on the same level of humor with someone from this foreign culture. Last night we played cards and when it'd be his turn and his hand wouldn't be good, he'd say: "What to doooo? Where to goooo? We're surrounded!" (though with his accent it sounded like "Where's around it?" - haha. still cracks me up :) Sorry, I've probably got sunstroke._

_Uhm, I was getting to a point: Maybe it's weird, but I keep finding bits and pieces of you in other people lately. Maybe it's simply, cause I think of you a lot more than I have over the last couple of months._

_It's not like it doesn't sting at all, but at the same time it's like you gave me this gift and if I don't forget about or ignore it, I will discover more and more of it and it will keep on growing._

_._

_Remember how I said that I wished your absence would be more obvious to people? Now it's the complete opposite with ...Alban's father. How come it's apparent to everyone that he's not present!? It drives me crazy._

_Do you think in some way it's apparent to Alban as well?_

_I worry about him. I wonder whether I confront him with too many strange things. Does him not complaining really mean that he takes everything very well, that he's up to every challenge? Or does he simply not know how to tell me that he'd like to feel more... protected?_

_You know, you're mom felt like she should've protected you more. From life in general, I guess. It wasn't rational, but when she told me, it felt very true._

_I helped her clear out your apartment. On several occasions it overwhelmed her, disarmed her. How does one decide what to keep and what to shed of a person they hold dear, of one's own son?_

_Alban doesn't really own stuff, yet, and most of his things came from TJ anyway. But if he'd ever..._

_sorry, I can't bring myself to write that down._

_I suppose, I'd keep every romper suit, every shirt, every little sock, wouldn't I? _

_Is it too hard or unhealthy to hold on to something like that?_

_Camille gave me some of your photos, including the ones we showed at your funeral. I've put them on my fridge and maybe it was hard to see them all the time at first, but I guess I got used to them. And I like that, cause in that way it's like you and the memories I've got of you are some ordinary part of my life, a part that doesn't only hurt._

_._

_Maura is in the hospital today on the other side of town, talking to the staff and discussing her schedule. She'll start next week. There are no foreigners left at the "mana yala", the hospital that was founded by medicines sans frontiers. Mana yala means "house of trying", which I find rather discomforting, but Maura thinks it's down-to-earth and realistic. (Which I don't find any better!)_

_I didn't wanna come, there are enough new faces in the carpenter's school each day._

_We had a big fight two nights ago. I got really pissed. Only minutes prior to that I realized I'm having a hard time trusting any relationship right now, … and that I'm scared if I lose another person, I cannot bear to feel the same amount of hurt once more._

_And then Maura tells me I am distancing myself! It felt like she already knew... knew everything really. Even before I did! Why didn't she talk to me? We used to be able to talk about everything. Does she assess me as too naive or too weak to share her thoughts?_

_I told Ma about it over the phone – writing this down I feel like I'm back in high school – and she said, I should try and put down my defenses when it comes to Maura. That it would be worth it. _

_I have no idea why that scares me so much._

_Maura and I are okay as long as we talk about her insecurities, not mine. I've asked her when she had come to Ethiopia the first time and how it changed her. She seems a lot more comfortable around people here, more than she's in Boston and definitely more than I am right now – which was never the case before!_

_She has already given that question much thought in the past. She says, she had found some kind of freedom the first time she came here and that it was easy to get back to that each time she returned. And at the same time she couldn't bring this easiness to Boston, couldn't make it last._

_She held Alban in her arms while she was telling her story and lightly_ _moved her fingers through his hair. It's an action so simple and yet so perfect, so full of love._ _I truly cannot imagine what it would feel like to not constantly be aware of how precious one's own child is, to not want to know your child close-by, if not physically then emotionally. How on earth had Maura's parents been able to put so much distance between them and their child?_

_Of course she excused them. Said back then there was no internet and calling the land-line was much more difficult, too. She's always apologizing for her parent's behavior._

_I believe, she's been looking a lot into everything that concerns parenting for a while now. I almost don't want to know the answer to why it made me snap when I noticed her reading that parental guide. Did it feel too close? Does she maybe think something's not alright with Alban?_

_At the beginning of my pregnancy I asked her, if she'd take the baby, if something ever happened to me. I really believed I would want her to, but I can only fully grasp at that now. It's not just about what I wish anymore - there's simply no other option. Alban and Maura belong together._

_She's more of a parent to him than his father ever was. I love her for that. I love the way she loves Alban. I love that there's another person, who'd do anything for this kid. And I love that we share this._

_Not only sorrow is heavier if you carry it alone, love is, too._

_It still scares me. And still I haven't figured out what __**it**__ is exactly._

_Maybe it's supposed to be scary?_

_._

_I'm glad, you're the one listening to all of this._

_Yours,_

_Jane_

* * *

**A/N: So, the next one will be THE one :) - I hope, you stick with me.  
**


	8. The one with the kiss

**A/N: Thank you guys for your lovely reviews, especially Dare2speed, rzles, cjunited83 and IsaBabisa for your loyalty. I hope you will be pleased.**

* * *

Jane cannot remember having ever experienced a thunderstorm this violent. Flashes after flashes are illuminating her small chamber, the metal window frames are rattling from the force of the wind and the flogging rain.

Alban is crying.

He's been crying for eight and a half minutes and Jane knows, because he's never cried that long before in his short life. She has him pressed against her chest and moved away from the windows that scare even her. Who knows if those are to withstand this kind of severe weather.

Alban lets out an even louder wail and then starts to hiccup, which makes Jane successfully doubt that he's getting enough oxygen into his lungs between each desperate cry. Panic rises in her chest and she steps into the hallway, carefully moving to Maura's bedroom door in the dark. The power is out as always and she couldn't find a flashlight or light a candle with the baby in her arms. Her feet step into something wet, though she barely takes the time to wonder before she bangs on the doctor's door.

"Maura! Can you come out here?"

The thunder drowns every noise she could possibly hear from inside the other woman's room, but soon the door in front of her is shaking and the handle clinks loudly a couple of times.

"Jane!?"

"Yes!" Jane shouts back over a new wave of thunder and the redoubled effort of her son's cries. He is squirming so forcefully, he almost slips through her arms and Jane has to grab one of his little thighs tightly in order to make sure that he's not going to fall.

"The door is stuck!" Maura explains. "I'll climb through the window and get to the front."

Jane is not able to rationally understand anything of what is going on. She feels like she's trapped, like this door that won't open is some weird metaphor for where she stands in her life right now.

Another pounding makes her jump and she quickly moves through the living room to unlock the front door. Even from the short way Maura is soaked. Her hair is plastered to her face and neck, her clothes are dripping and her bare feet are covered in mud.

"I'm so sorry to wake you-"

"I was already up."

"I tried feeding him, rocking him-"

"Sit down, Jane."

"He's so scared, Maura, I've never seen him so scared."

Jane jumps involuntarily when Maura puts cold hands against her arms to guide her to the couch. The doctor seems composed, focused on the two distressed people in front of her. She lights three candles that are already waiting on the coffee table and then kneels next to Jane and her baby son, who pushes himself away from his mother's chest, face crimson red.

Maura takes half a minute to rub her palms warm and then places them against Alban's upper back and neck and pushes his tense little form gently back against Jane's chest.

"Calm your own heartbeat", she orders Jane as if it would be as simple as turning a switch.

She then starts to sing.

_Nunaj nina nena_

_Nunaj nina nena oj_

_Zaspi mi zaspi detence_

_Zaspi mi čedo mamino._

It's a Serbian cradle-song and even though Jane had overheard her friend sing it to her son, she had never done it in her presence. The moment is delicate, but Jane is not sure it helps her racing heart.

Her son's wails, however, subside to a whimpering, even though he's still shaken by sharp hiccups.

_Nek raste ruža rumena_

_Nek raste nani od meda_

_Nunaj nina nena_

_Nunaj nina nena oj._

When Alban gets drowsy, they sit in silence for a while until Maura slowly withdraws her hands. Jane believes she herself can feel the lack of their warmth.

"Do you think Alban is normal?" Jane's question is barely a whisper, but she _has_ to voice her concerns, now more than ever. Alban's emotions have rattled her tonight.

"Why would you want him to be normal?"

Jane doesn't know, whether she find's Maura's answer funny or sad. She doubts her friend is solely talking about Alban.

"Do you think you weren't a normal kid?", she asks back instead.

"You know I do", Maura mumbles, a little gruffly.

"I believe you were special. In the most positive meaning there is." Jane puts all the sincerity into the statement she is capable of. "You still are", she adds. "Sometimes I just feel like I can't relate to Alban as much as you can."

"Okay, but", Maura starts slowly, weighing the words, "why can't you let _him_ be special?"

"Is that a quote from your parental guide?", Jane mocks, but at the same time makes sure Maura hears how the question actually touched her.

"Go and change into some of my sweats", she suggests as she takes in Maura's soaked cotton pajamas once again.

"I'm alright", the doctor murmurs, though Jane could swear there's a blue tinge to Maura's lips.

"Oh, come on, Maur! Your shirt is practically see through."

The smaller woman immediately glances down at her chest and then frowns at Jane, when she realizes it isn't true. She gets up and heads to Jane's closet anyway. She also retrieves a towel from the bathroom to dry her hair and notices the small puddle at her door when she comes back.

"It seems that the wood swelled from the water. No wonder I couldn't open the door." She almost shrieks when she turns around, Jane standing right in front of her.

"Sorry, Maur", the detective chuckles. "Can you take him? Gotta go to the bathroom."

When she comes back, Alban is sleeping soundly in one of Maura's arms, but the doctor is trembling, one hand clasped over her mouth.

Jane rushes to her side, "Maur? What's wrong, what happened?" Hadn't she been so very collected just moments ago?

Maura closes her eyes against a sob that's working its way up her throat. She carefully pushes Alban toward Jane with her free arm, but Jane doesn't reach for him.

"Please take him. I don't want to upset him again", she says, shaking her head. Jane cannot help but think, that Maura looks beautiful in the candlelight, even crying. She takes her son and cradles him back against her chest, but reaches out with her other arm to pull Maura against her shoulder as well.

"What upset _you_?", she asks and suddenly realizes, how crying Maura doesn't nearly frighten her as much as crying Alban. It troubles her on a different level, but reacting to Maura's hurt somehow comes to her more naturally.

Maura shakes her head again, not ready to answer.

.

Jane counts seventeen thunders until Maura calms down, the gaps in between the grumbling becoming longer and longer. When she thinks Maura might be drifting off to sleep, the woman in her arm starts to speak.

"Did I make you come here with me?"

"No, Maur. That was all me", Jane answers right away, not surprised by the guilt and insecurity Maura might feel. She knows, Maura rather believes she did something wrong than blame someone else. During and after their fight a few days ago, Jane hadn't given her the possibility to react to Jane's outburst. And Jane hadn't explained herself very well either.

"I was so relieved when you agreed to come, Jane. I... it felt like I was starting to lose you. Maybe I thought going to Ethiopia would somehow bind you to my side", Jane feels her friend shudder, her breath hitches, "but now I feel very selfish, if that were the case."

Jane knows it's now or never. She cannot wait until she understands everything she feels, until she deciphers what she fears. She cannot lose Maura over her confusion, her strange need to shield herself from anything that tries to get to her.

"Maur, I don't fully comprehend what I am struggling with", she whispers, "but even if I push you away, I want you close."

Once she has said it out loud, she knows it's the truth. She takes Maura's hand and intertwines their fingers at Alban's back.

"I need to know that you won't walk away. Even if I'm pushing very hard."

She finds Maura's eyes.

"I need to know that for Alban... because he feels safe around you. I need to know that for yourself, 'cause I see how much you love him and it would break my heart, if _I_ did something that keeps you two apart."

Maura clutches Jane's shoulder with her free hand. Holding on.

"And I need to know that for myself. I can't lose you either."

And then Maura moves in closer.

And places a feather light kiss against Jane's lips.

* * *

**So, this has been the first arch of the story. The next updates will take me a little longer again - sorry.**

**Translation of the Serbian lullaby:**

**1) Sleep nina nena, sleep nina nena-oh, sleep for me, sleep, little child. sleep mommy's child.**

**2) May the red rose grow, may it grow for mommy honey sweet, sleep nina nena, sleep nina nena-oh.**


	9. The one after the kiss

_**Challiya, 7th of September 2015**_

_**or 1st of the 13th month 2008 in Ethiopia**_

_Alban just rolled over for the first time! I'm bursting with pride and don't even feel that silly ;)_

_Each morning I help Tayanne sorting grains now (she's crazy fast) and Alban lies on his baby blanket on the patio. And today he simply rolled over, as if he's been doing it forever, and cheered full of joy, cause the world was finally in its right place and not upside down anymore._

_Now he's fallen asleep, chewing his fist. I'm so glad, he's better now. Three nights ago he cried really hard and I thought the reason had been the cruel thunder storm that night, but I guess that was only partially true. _

_The next day he'd woken with a slightly risen temperature, red cheeks, kept on crying. Hannes took us to the hospital right away. Maura asserted we'd only be taking reasonable precautions, that a baby with a slight fever was no reason to be scared, that we just wanted to be on the safe side._

_Well, screw that. Nothing seems reasonable, when your kid is sick. I know that now._

_I've sent Maura in with Alban, couldn't bear to watch when they stuck a needle in his small leg to draw some blood. I threw up into one of the drains right after they left, my whole body revolting against reason._

_Figuring things out about your kid makes you review your own childhood and parents automatically. Against all my willpower I need to confess, I never felt closer to Ma in that way. I understand her worry. I _feel _it._

_Maura actually knows an American family, who lost a baby to malaria (though they lived in Central African Republic, which has much less developed medical care). She's not only seen what it does to parents, who lose a kid, she also learned what it was like for them to deal with the guilt. They had taken it to a foreign country and in that way somehow neglected him the best care possible. At least that's what they felt, she said._

_Before we made plans to come here, we played some of those scenarios through in our heads. Malaria isn't an issue in Western Ethiopia, which was a big pro, but the question whether to risk a child's life like that, who's completely depending on the decisions you make, remained... and remains!_

_I gotta admit, it kinda felt safe to go, cause Maura said it would be. I know she would want Alban to be safe, I don't think there's anything I'd trust more. And if she thinks Ethiopia is safe enough, so do I. In the end, there's only so much you can do to prevent your child from... an automobile accident? Anything really. Right? _

_Yesterday Alban's first tooth broke through. Maura says it's pretty early, therefore normal that we didn't expect it. Relief is like a hot shower after standing in the rain for too long. He looks so cute now, whenever he smiles and that pretty, little white tooth stands out._

_Oh look, Frost, I filled some lines._

_._

_I actually didn't wanna write, cause I don't wanna process what has happened. I guess, I don't want any answers. I might be scared of each possibility. I only intended to make a note on Alban's progress, cause if I don't write things down they tend to blur together astonishingly quickly over here._

_I've been occupied with lots and lots of chores, but surprisingly it doesn't feel that domestic. It's not even as annoying and boring as it has been back in Boston, even though every task takes twice as long or even longer (for example washing Alban's cotton diapers, which I declare as my least favorite part). _

_Back home five and a half months of not going to work had been all I could bear. Maura knew. Everybody probably knew. That's why we kept looking for an alternative. Over here, I'm still staying at home with my kid, and yet it feels very different. Cleaning and washing somehow seems more existential. Sounds ridiculous, doesn't it?_

_I'm even ironing each and every piece of clothing we wash. To kill the eggs of the mango flies, which are like grappling hooks and therefore get stuck under your skin, where they develop into maggots within a week, before you can squeeze them out like a pimple. _

_Gross! An experience I really want to miss out on._

_Maura started her rotations at the hospital today. This week she'll be assisting with the preparations of an outreach program for eye care that'll start next month as soon as the rain lessens. Apparently cataracts are a big problem here, because the water they wash themselves in is not clean._

_._

_So, Barry, why is it that you get me talking?_

_It does make me feel better, lighter. I can be as clueless, as freaked out and as cheesy as I want. It's like when Maura talks to her corpses, I guess. Maybe you're still laughing and judging, but this is the only time I'm glad I won't hear you._

_._

_She kissed me, you know._

_She kissed me and I didn't kiss her back and she didn't apologize and we didn't talk about it and the next morning we were too occupied with a feverish little baby._

_Should I've expected this to happen? Or was it something that was born that very night?_

_It certainly feels new, innocent, unspent. At the same time familiar, loaded, overflowing._

_At first, I honestly believed it had only been that one moment. I was convinced... or I convinced myself it had only happened due to the nerve-stretching circumstances._

_But then yesterday I found her reading her parental guide out loud in her bed to Alban, who was fast asleep on her chest. I had been outside to hang up our clothes during the usual rain break in the afternoon. Maura's door is at the wood workshop, cause it needs to get sanded (Hannes sent someone to fix the leak on our roof yesterday) and so I could see them lying in her bed from the hallway. I don't even know, why I explain all those circumstances to you – maybe... it somehow felt like I was intruding._

_Watching them, however, awakened that same feeling I had during the storm a couple of nights back. I've said it before: Whenever I see them together, it's something homelike, it's about safety. I believe it's been like this from the very beginning._

_You know me, I didn't wanna stay in the hospital a second longer than necessary. Alban was healthy and I felt okay. We left four hours after his birth. AMA, of course, but who cares if your best friend is a doctor, right?_

_I asked Maura to take me home. Her home, of course. That had been out of question months ago._ _I bet it wasn't easy to get rid of my family, but Maura handled all of that for me. She also politely excused the nurse that wanted to wrap Alban into the yellow woolen blanket Ma had made for him (five months prior to his birth). She placed the baby against my chest, much like she has done a couple of nights ago when he was crying as hard as never before, and wrapped the blanket around my upper body._

_We drove through the night in silence, Alban asleep in the same car seat he sleeps in right now. I don't remember the short walk up the driveway, or her unlocking the front door, but I remember the warmth from the lights in the living room and the strange thought, how something that was so familiar to me, was completely new to Alban and that due to his newness everything would have to be seen in a different light... as if not one single thing could stay the same now, as if I'd have to turn over everything I thought I knew._

_I haven't thought about that night since... that night really. I know that impression had scared me, numbed me a little. Changes never used to get to me as much. Ever since Cavanaugh brought up your replacement, or when that tech guy sat in your chair - It just got worse and worse, I guess._

_Maura took us to her bedroom. I was already in sweats, so I simply climbed on top of the covers and placed Alban in the middle of the bed. I don't know, how much later Maura joined us. She must have unwrapped him at some point, cause all I remember is the sight of her finger in his tiny hand._

_I knew then, no matter how new and strange the world was to Alban, he was right where he belonged._

_But seeing them yesterday and after the night where she... you know, kissed me, I realized there is something else, but the homey and safe feeling. It's not only about where Alban belongs – I have to figure out, how I fit in, too._

_Watching Maura with the baby on her chest, I knew, the answer wasn't solely within myself anymore. The answer can't be separated from Alban AND from Maura anymore. I knew, if I wanted to find out, I'd have to join them - I did, literally, and Maura smiled at me with a breathtaking happiness in her eyes when I laid down beside them - but I will also have to understand, what it means to "join" them figuratively. _

_._

_I guess, I'm kinda glad she didn't apologize for the kiss, cause... that wouldn't be right. I'd know even less where to go from here, if she'd marked that moment as a mistake._

_._

_Love,_

_Jane_


	10. The one where Maura faints

It's Maura's second week at the hospital when a man in scrubs comes to find Jane, asking her to follow him to _Dr. Maura_. The combination of her friend's title and given name has a strange ring to Jane's ears and a nurse troubling himself to come and get her from the other side of town unsettles her deeply.

The morning is not even four hours old. Jane has started to count in Ethiopian time to sidestep some of the misunderstandings she has to face on a daily basis. And when the nurse comes looking for her, she's on top of Tayanne's kitchen, kneeling on the hay patches that make the roof, trying to free the smoke outlet. From the outside there is no way to tell what's inside the circular hut. There's no window and even though the door stands always open, it's like gazing into a black hole.

She learned that the kitchen is somewhat sacred to the person it belongs to, that it is impolite and highly unusual for a foreigner, or men for that matter, to enter. Therefore she cannot blame Hannes for not knowing under what kind of circumstances his cook is working every day. And yet, Jane has gathered so much respect and sympathy for the young woman, that she gets seriously frustrated with Hannes, when she finally stepped into Tayanne's hut this morning, having asked permission again and again solely by gestures for the last couple of days.

Tayanne examined Jane openly as she entered, smiling a little shyly, amused and proud at the same time. Jane, however, couldn't make out anything once she was inside. Her eyes watered immediately and she was barely able to keep them open. Sharp smoke filled her nose and mouth, her lungs and then she stumbled back outside, coughing and gasping for air, wondering why Tayanne hadn't died from smoke poisoning by now.

She spent the last couple of hours trying to fix the actually simple technical problem, managed to get grime all over herself and now tries to ignore the incredulous stare the nurse gives her. Jane has already seen Tayanne get all nervous and unhappy with her climbing the hut. She can imagine it to be a typical man's job, which only fuels her to do it herself, and she's not only female, but also white, which always seems to complicate things. Especially when she gets herself dirty, which to her seems impossible to avoid, having to walk knuckle deep mud roads each day. She can only marvel at the Ethiopian's and in fact Maura's ability to keep inexplicably dressy at all times.

Jane slides down the roof easily, sends Tayanne a questioning look to ask her, whether she can watch Alban for a little longer, and after a nod from the other woman, she follows the man to the yard, where one of the hospital's Land Rovers and a driver are waiting. Maura told Jane, how incredibly expensive fuel is in Ethiopia and that the hospital can only seldom and in very severe cases afford to pick up patients. Even less during the rainy season due to the worse condition of the roads. The fact that the car is waiting for Jane now, engine running, makes her stomach churn, her heart hammering painfully against its organic shell.

There's nothing to get out of the guy concerning the reason of his escort to the mana yala, the "house of trying", a name Jane dreads, now more than ever. She's desperately trying to keep her mind from picturing all kinds of ugly scenarios of what might have happened to Maura. The doctor is still taking shifts at the eye department and since Jane cannot think of one serious disease that can be communicated from someone else's eyes, she somewhat felt on the safe side there, even though she suspects Maura could easily turn this kind of certainty upside down.

At the hospital Jane is greeted by Dr. Samuel, whose name she recalls from Maura's reports every evening. He is one of the hospital's surgeons and he excuses the nurse, who had picked up Jane, and asks her to follow him. Jane realizes she has yet to visit the hospital under different circumstances than panicked, should take the time to meet the people Maura works with and appreciate the beautifully landscaped garden in between the long, roofed but wall-less paths that connect the separate departments.

The young surgeon shakes her out of her thoughts, saying: "I'm sorry for what happened to your friend", and Jane can't prevent the invasion of a picture that shows Maura covered in blood, only the source of it still undetected. She's incapable to reply something, only stops breathing in response and follows his white coat through a door and into the middle of a fairly large crowd considering the rather small room. A salty smell of urine, blood and cleaning power invades her nostrils, as the detective takes in the scene in front of her.

Someone is lying on a hospital bed, over which many men are hovering, and when Jane steps closer, oxygen fills her lungs with the sudden relieved gasp as she realizes it's not Maura. She feels the detective in her come to life, working to make sense of the situation, despite the fact she doesn't understand a word that is being spoken around her and that she is still anxious to make sure that Maura is alright.

The patient on the bed is an Ethiopian boy, not older than eight. One of his eyes is covered in gauze, his pillow has blood spatters all over and he's whimpering, obviously in pain. Before Jane can move to find out more, a hand on her shoulder startles her, Dr. Samuel urging her to move around the group of men and on to another bed.

There lies Maura, dressed in a white coat herself, stethoscope around her neck. Another nurse is next to her, taking her pulse. The last time Jane had seen her friend look this much like a real doctor, who's attending to live patients, was when that building in Boston had collapsed, trapping her brother, her baby nephew and her partner in the basement garage. That day Maura had looked tousled, exhausted and overwhelmed, but very much alive. Now her face is as white as her coat, she looks disoriented and is concentrating on taking deep and even breaths through her mouth.

"Are you alright, Maur?" Jane asks, rushing to her friend's side, bumping awkwardly into the metal bedframe. Maura flinches and gives Jane a bewildered look.

"What happened?" Jane tries, gently now, carefully moving her hand so that Maura can see she's intending to touch her forehead. To push away some sweaty strands of hair as well as checking for a fever. Out of the corner of her eye Jane notices Dr. Samuel nodding at the nurse in order to dismiss her, before he leaves, too, to give them as much privacy as possible.

"That boy", Maura slurs and Jane's brow furrows in concern. Maura swallows and her eyes dart around the room as if she's trying to find the injured child, but then she seems relieved when she finds Jane's eyes instead.

"They brought him in yesterday", Maura starts to explain, "ten inch stick inside his eye." Jane winces in displeasing sympathy. "Dr. Samuel had to take it out, stick and eye, and this morning on rounds he wanted to exchange the gauze bandages inside the now empty socket, but the fabric stuck to the wound and the boy- he was in so much agony..." Her illustration subsides in a shaky breath and the smallest whimper that makes Jane's heart go out to her friend as well as the little boy.

"I fainted, Jane", Maura whispers now, and she does not look simply embarrassed, but humiliated.

Jane has moved her hand to Maura's cheek, which she is stroking steadily. She moves in a little closer, answering Maura's earnest gaze with determination, whispering back: "Your secret's safe with me."

.

She stumbles toward the bathroom before she's fully awake, before she even knows why.

She finds Maura leaning over the toilet, retching violently.

She gets there in an instant, holding her friend's hair back, rubbing her neck, catching her as she sinks to the floor.

She drags the smaller woman back to her bed, makes her take anti-nausea-drops and places a bowl next to the mattress.

She says, "I knew somethin' was up. You'd never faint over some lost eyeball", and notices the weak attempt of a smile Maura gives her.

She leaves her a little too hastily. Goes to clean the bathroom.

She needs to think.

.

"You don't have to do that, you know?" Maura startles her. It's true. Jane has been cleaning way more than necessary, but she also knows Maura is talking about the mess she made.

The doctor is leaning against the door frame, pale and frowning.

"Should we go to the hospital?" Jane questions, the frown on her own forehead deepening when Maura shakes her head. "When Alban was sick, you insisted on going to the hospital right away", the detective argues.

"I don't have the immune system of a barely five-month-old."

"You're resistant to malaria?" Jane asks incredulously.

"I told you, malaria is highly unlikely." Maura almost rolls her eyes. Almost. Jane catches it anyway. And decides not to act on it, not to get angry. She just needs to know, if Maura is also going to be reasonable when it comes to herself.

"You also said that the risk of catching meningitis is much higher and I'd actually prefer another possibility."

"I'll have to stop telling you about these things", Maura smirks. "And you usually don't _catch_ meningitis. I probably have amebiasis. That's not too bad, if I keep hydrated."

"How do you know?"

"Because it can be treated easily with antibiotics and the only danger is the severe diarrhea."

"Maura!" Jane wrinkles her nose in disgust. "I meant, how do you know you've got... _that_."

There's a pause before the doctor admits, "I've been drinking unfiltered water at the hospital."

"Why would you do that!?" It comes out more accusing than she intended. She steps closer to her friend, trying to let her know, how much she really cares, how this is all about... _caring, _isn't it?

Maura shrugs. "Everyone else does."

"Wow", Jane smiles, genuinely.

"What?" Maura asks, a little insecure nevertheless.

"I've never seen you as everyone else", the detective explains. "Are by any chance all of them sick now?"

"Not everyone's stomach reacts to amebas."

"Which makes you special again, congratulations", Jane chuckles sarcastically. "Didn't you learn from that experience?"

"I never tried the water on my other trips", Maura mumbles in response.

Somehow this last statement makes Jane's smile disappear. Carefully she asks, "So, what makes you more adventurous now?"

"I don't know", Maura whispers, eyes glued to the floor. "I guess, I... I just want to belong."

Jane waits a beat, then reaches out to gently push Maura's chin up. There are unshed tears in her friends eyes, her lips are quivering. Jane wonders, when things got so complicated. Why can't they just be open with each other and face whatever feelings are there to face. There's nothing she wants more than to ease Maura's pain, the loneliness this woman finds herself in again and again. She knows there's only one answer to her own reclusion as she pulls Maura into her arms.

"Me, too", she whispers into the other woman's hair.


	11. The one about belonging

**A/N: Hey guys, I really am sorry for the delay - there's not much I can do about it, but I still enjoy writing this story and you're gonna get an update sooner or later.**

**As you probably have noticed, Jane is asking a lot of questions in her letters and I'd like you to try and read it as if she's asking you. Not every question will be appealing to everyone, but I'm sure there'll be at least one that makes you wonder. Whether you answer it quietly for yourself or PM me or leave a review doesn't really matter - but I really, really would find it damn interesting, if you could just let me know, which one makes you think or want to respond to.**

**I'm pretty disappointed in how the matter of Jane's unborn child will probably be reversed in 5x09 (for many reasons), but I'd like to continue to integrate the recent story lines of the show into the story, especially Tasha. Though I have no idea how to pull that off, yet :)**

**Ok, enough with the rambling. Thanks for sticking with the story - now g****o ahead and enjoy this chapter! Yours, J  
**

* * *

_**Challiya, 16th of September 2015**_

_Bara Harar – Happy New Year, Barry!_

_We celebrated the beginning of 2008 five days ago, so I know, I'm a little late - and not only, cause it's been seven years - but the people in Challiya haven't stopped congratulating each other on the new year either. It's all you hear on the streets and it's a greeting I finally understand. _

_New Year's was shortly before Maura got sick and the first time we met with most of the hospital staff. Maura had brought sparklers for everyone (I love her for the idea), which made all those serious professionals cheer in delight as well as be openly upset when only ashes and wisps of smoke remained. After that we had a wonderful dinner at Hannes' place, full of laughter thanks to Simon and Bacha, who joined us. (And Tayanne made the best tomato salad ever!)_

_Today's a slow day. Maura is pretty weak, but the nurse, who came by our house this morning, affirmed she's doing fine. She's drowsy and pale. I don't like it. But when she wakes, she smiles and is coherent. She's been to the clinic yesterday (it's only a short hop from the carpenter's school) and they confirmed the amebiasis theory and provided her with antibiotics. I'm glad we've got that clinic close by, even though only nurses are working there. We'd be able to reach the hospital by car in ten anyway._

_I'm keeping her hydrated as best as I can, but even though the vomiting has stopped, she's losing enough from her runs to the toilet every half an hour – ha! The toilet runs. Oh, she'd kill me, if she knew I was writing this. She always looks deeply embarrassed when she comes back from the bathroom and I know she's looked at herself in the mirror. There's no point in telling her it doesn't matter or that she actually looks kind of cute, tousled hair, all sleepy, lazy._

_Last week we made a habit of reading to each other while Alban takes his afternoon nap. Maura got home from the hospital each day around four and she loved to just crawl up in bed and place this sleepy little gnome on her chest. It's still the parenting book we read, which I find rather philosophical and therefore a little annoying (I doubt that Ethiopians reflect as much on their children and still they seem fine to me, though I'm not surprised at all. I always knew Maura would over think every tiny bit concerning the baby, not that I don't ever do that, but I somehow believe it doesn't concern every single little choice I make about what kind of fabric his car seat has or what kind of music to listen to in his presence (before and after his birth!)),anyway... I have actually found a couple of passages very, uhm, stimulating. Ha-ha._

_Now that Maura is sick, I moved her mattress to my room and we've got a lot more time to read. My room actually is nothing but beds now. In between her mattress and mine is one of Alban's baby blankets. He spends most of his time rolling around now, swinging a small calabash quite forcefully left and right. Bacha brought it the other day, it has dried and its seeds are loose inside, so they make a lot of noise if you shake it – we call it the calarattle. _

_Over here it's the only toy Alban's got so far. Maura suggested to keep our luggage free of all the gifts (that just kept coming) and I liked the idea. It might sound cheesy and smug, but I kinda like the impression that he only needs oxygen, food, a place to sleep and people, who care about him. We only took the car seat, a baby blanket, clothes (also the ones he still has to grow into) and, yeah, cotton diapers, which I also blame on Maura and which make me feel so... hippie._

_Of course Ma, Frankie and Tommy overloaded him with all the wonderful things a baby doesn't need. I guess, I did the same when TJ was born. Even Constance sent Alban a stuffed animal, a fair trade, small elephant. I'm still amazed that she cared to do so. Or maybe I'm surprised that Maura even told her mother about Alban and it actually made Constance recognize that he's important to her._

_Today we read a chapter about solidarity, which was pretty moving. It started with an example of a teacher, who knows the father of one of his students is an alcoholic, which he then divulged in front of the whole class. Then the student got up, denied it and defended his father. The author says it was the student, not the teacher, who spoke the truth, cause solidarity with one's parents, a statement about their relationship, always makes the (higher) truth._

_I had a hard time not eying Maura too openly, but I really wonder how she feels about that. I keep telling her about every annoying detail concerning Ma, but Maura would never speak ill of either of her parents. It's almost impossible to engage her in a conversation that might lead to acknowledging where they've failed her. Sure, she can talk about, how it wasn't righteous of Hope to use Paddy's money for MEND and I don't even have to name the reasons why she dislikes her mob father – but there's only little to get out of her, when it comes to the parent-child-relationship. And even less regarding her adoptive parents, Constance and..._

_Oh, gosh. I don't even know Maura's father's name._

_Given how close we are, don't you think that's weird, Barry? I know both your parents in person, even though your father is at sea most of the times._

_Do you think she's protecting them intentionally, cause... cause I'm too judgmental? Am I? Or does she really not think about them that way, and that often? Solidarity doesn't mean they can do what they want to her without bearing the consequences, right? I wonder, whether Maura's parents don't know what they're missing out on just as much as Maura doesn't know, how to ask them for it._

_Last night I asked her, why she thinks it is that she couldn't bring the easiness she has around people in Ethiopia to Boston. She looked so sad and uncomfortable, so vulnerable and yet I don't think she hated that she was all that. It's more like it was okay to be all that, it really was. And even though such moments are kind of heavy, I wouldn't want it any other way, I wish it could be this raw and open more often. _

_It... or she made me feel more alive than I might have been for the past couple of months. _

_Saying this, I find myself guilty. Toward Alban mainly, I guess, but maybe to all the people close to me. Guilty of not trying harder, not being... better. Maybe it wasn't possible at the time, too much going on, and... and at some point I kinda shut down in fear of losing it completely. Maybe. I'd like to go back and handle a couple of things differently anyway._

_Maura believes, there's a side to her she can only fully explore and... and __**be**__, if she's in Challiya. She didn't even say Ethiopia. It's this concrete place. She thinks, it's always got something to do with distances. In Boston she's distanced herself toward people, to be able to be that Boston-part of her, in Ethiopia she's distancing herself from that same part of her, which lets her be closer to the people. I'm not sure, I got that right now, but it was something like that. Pretty confusing, huh?_

_Sometimes I think, she's just really stuck in her head and puts more thought and meaning into all that distance stuff than it's worth. But on the other hand I'd like to believe that despite all that she struggles with, she's not either Boston or Ethiopia-Maura, when we're together. That somehow shecan be both with me, cause maybe I'm a little like Challiya to her when we are in Boston, even though that has a somewhat arrogant connotation. _

_What I want to say, I think she knows how to be complete and I think she can be just that when we're together. At least it's been like this before and maybe we have drifted a little bit apart, but getting back there is more than possible... it's beautiful and more intense._

_We're over 6.000 miles from home and we're figuring out, where we belong. Do you think that's crazy?_

_You know, she __**does**__ guess. Sometimes. And not only when I force her. Two nights ago, when she got sick, she said, she guesses she wants to belong... somewhere. I didn't even notice until I was back in bed, but as soon as I realized what it meant, I got back up and suggested that we move her mattress to my room. For once I wanted to be the literal one in our relationship and give her an obvious closeness._

_I figure, for her guessing must be like letting her guard down, like pushing through some wall, or one of the walls – and I just had to act on that, cause who knows, she might just add another layer if I didn't, right?_

_I want to give her something, somewhere to belong to. I believe, I always wanted that. Ever since she first met Hoyt and that bastard made her doubt her... humanity. It's why I'd be so suspicious about Ian, why I'd asked Constance to be more affectionate, why I encouraged Maura to pursue things with Jack. - she's one of the most lovable people I know, she doesn't deserve to be left, neglected, lonely. And yeah, that's what they are and were: Ian the leaver, Constance the neglector and Jack the possible end to loneliness. _

_Hm. I guess, that's not really fair, but true nonetheless!, and I know Maura's relationship with these people is much more complex and the love she feels might be that higher truth I talked about, but in the end I can see only one point: _

_She should be loved._

_And I can do that, right?_

_._

_I did love you, Frost. Still do. Did I let you know that enough?_

_Love,_

_Jane_


End file.
